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applesaucedream2016-01-01 07:12 pm
applesaucemod) wrote in applesaucedream2016-01-01 07:12 pm
How dreary to be Somebody
Tonight the dreamers of Manhattan will not know where it is they find themselves, nor how they got there…nor where they came from. They will not remember that they have been taken from their homes by the whims of a capricious Rift, and they will remember neither the people they've lost nor those they've met.
Tonight, the dreamers of Manhattan will not remember who they are at all.
What remains is a sense of how the world should be, minus an understanding of whom one is within that world. Some will know the hospital in which they find themselves for what it is, though they will not remember how they know. The long halls are lined with patients' rooms, doctors' offices, and locked doors to supply rooms and labs. Here and there one finds a common room or cafeteria with furniture that might almost be comfortable if only everything weren't so sterile.
The staff are largely absent; the only people who might explain matters are the minders at each door to the outside, but they aren't inclined to provide explanations. If asked, they will only say that the dreamers are here for their own safety. Attempts to leave will be gently but firmly blocked. Insistence on leaving will be dangerous to the dreamers, though the minders will be more than ready to grab anyone who actually makes it through one of the doors before they can float away into the void that's waiting for them on the other side.
They're all here for their own safety and good, after all. Too bad no one will say why that is.
[Semi-standard dream rules apply: players and their characters are not required to be members of this community in order to participate in the party. Unlike usual, however, all characters will forget the events of the dream upon waking.]
Tonight, the dreamers of Manhattan will not remember who they are at all.
What remains is a sense of how the world should be, minus an understanding of whom one is within that world. Some will know the hospital in which they find themselves for what it is, though they will not remember how they know. The long halls are lined with patients' rooms, doctors' offices, and locked doors to supply rooms and labs. Here and there one finds a common room or cafeteria with furniture that might almost be comfortable if only everything weren't so sterile.
The staff are largely absent; the only people who might explain matters are the minders at each door to the outside, but they aren't inclined to provide explanations. If asked, they will only say that the dreamers are here for their own safety. Attempts to leave will be gently but firmly blocked. Insistence on leaving will be dangerous to the dreamers, though the minders will be more than ready to grab anyone who actually makes it through one of the doors before they can float away into the void that's waiting for them on the other side.
They're all here for their own safety and good, after all. Too bad no one will say why that is.
[Semi-standard dream rules apply: players and their characters are not required to be members of this community in order to participate in the party. Unlike usual, however, all characters will forget the events of the dream upon waking.]
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She stays beneath the chairs, but she moves her head enough to glare up at him. Then, pointedly, she growls louder.
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... Come to think of it, how is it she can understand him? How much time has she been spending around two-leggers if she can make sense of their jabbering? They're not like the rest of the People. She shouldn't be able to understand him this clearly.
She stops growling. I don't know, she says experimentally. Will he be able to understand her?
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"...Oh!" he says. "You are the first I have seen here," he admits.
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She huffs out a sigh, discouraged - but not especially surprised - by his admission. She's fair certain any other wolves who might be here would be trying to hide, like her... but as empty as the place seems to be, it's still short on good places to really hide. Everything is too orderly and too open, and she's always caught between the urge to tuck herself away someplace small and dark and the desire to leave herself an avenue of escape. It's been all but impossible to find a hiding place that satisfies both of those wishes. Any other wolves would be having the same problem. If she can't manage to avoid getting cornered and spotted, she doubts a whole Pack would have any more luck.
It's a bad place for wolves, she says - sulks, really. And it smells terrible.
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So there. He frowns, though, thinking about it. "But it is not the correct place for wolves," he admits, not sure how he knows that. He does not know how he knows anything about wolves when he does not even know his own identity. "I should put you outside," he decides.
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Still. You're not putting me anywhere, she informs him with a disdainful curl of her lip (not-so-coincidentally showing off one of her long, sharp canines). A moment later, she adds, How do I get outside?
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He might hesitate at the sight of that tooth, though, some faint survival instinct finally making itself known. "One would generally utilize a door," he says. "For which one would generally require hands, which I possess and you do not."
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She eyes him uncertainly. Where's a door, then?
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"I did not intend to carry you," he informs her curtly. "I have not yet found a door, but I can assist you in locating one."